Good night, sweet Prince

9th and Marquette, where Prince posed for his first publicity photo in 1977 (Photo by Andrea Swensson/MPR)

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Who is Prince? It’s a question that’s been on our minds for four decades now. Because for as long as the man born Prince Rogers Nelson has been making music, the world has been attempting to decode his motivations and cut through his mystique. But much like the murky waters of Lake Minnetonka in Purple Rain, the harder you squint to see through to the real artist, the more fantastic and otherworldly he becomes.

As soon as you think you’ve got a grip, you can hear his voice echoing in your ear. “That ain’t Lake Minnetonka.” Whoever we think he is, that ain’t Prince.

As I look back through the bleary-eyed fog of these past two days, I’ve found myself reflecting on a quote I heard recently — that the most compassionate people also set the most boundaries for themselves — and how Prince was able to keep his private life locked down while opening his doors to the public regularly and pouring himself into his work and his fans so completely.

I didn’t know Prince. I wrote about him a lot, thought about him a lot, listened to his music carefully, and studied his movements from up close and afar. I felt an intense emotional connection to his music and did my best to translate his performances into words. I’ve dug down deep into the music that emanated from North Minneapolis in the years leading up to his breakthrough, and contemplated how everything from the construction of the highways to the segregation of the Twin Cities shaped his upbringing and created a launchpad for his funk ‘n’ roll spaceship. A few fleeting times I had the tremendous, confusing honor of speaking with him and being welcomed into his world.

I almost danced with him once. He knew that I knew that he read everything I wrote. He asked me to help him find local artists. He took a silly drawing I made and turned it into the cover art for one of his songs, and he made sure I was around for all the big moments he wanted the world to know about. He would send missives through the ether, from his imagination to my laptop, from “P,” somehow, to me.

Like a lighthouse beacon pivoting from its scan of the sea to my ship passing in the night, in these fleeting moments his light was all I could see.

The sheer idea that one man could be so musically brilliant, so thoughtful, so funny, so tender, and yet so defiantly and boldly himself was intoxicating. He subverted everything we thought we knew about Minnesotans, black men, sexuality, pop artists, celebrities, suburbanites. He ate stereotypes for breakfast. He was shy, but loved people deeply. He quietly funneled his fortune toward poor and troubled communities. He hired and promoted women, and tried to find a way to elevate the necessary voices of modern black women artists above his own. He was the most turned-on man in the metro area. He used sex as a metaphor for human connection and spirituality, and used everything from screwdrivers to flowers to his own guitar as metaphors for sex.

Most of all, he never stopped working. When I met with him, he hovered around me like a butterfly, as if to remind me that he might lose interest and walk away at any moment. He found pretty much everything around him to be funny. He had the restless energy and curious mind of a person who never stopped wondering, searching, feeling. The last time I saw him, I got the sense that he was at the beginning of a new journey inward, one focused on his identity and his memories. He was finally getting ready to tell his own story in his own words.

The thing that makes me angry is that we don’t even know how much we’ve lost. There’s no way to quantify it. Prince wasn’t done.

He knew that he had mastered the guitar, that he could scorch us with it so effortlessly that it was practically boring to him, and wanted to figure out how to do the same thing on the piano. His dad inspired him to play the piano all those years ago when he was living off Olson Memorial Highway, and he wanted to make his dad proud.

He knew he wanted to share his life’s journey and narrate it on his own terms. I couldn’t wait to read his memoir. I hope he got something down before he left. He never allowed his conversations to be recorded and refused traditional interviews, so his narrative gets passed from person to person like folklore. There are so many books about Prince, but most don’t manage to get their facts straight from page to page, much less between the author’s imagination and reality.

The thing that makes me sad is that people are getting even thirstier for Prince now, searching for answers, wanting to figure out why. I feel this bizarre desire to protect him. I don’t know Prince, but I truly believe that he was able to remain so sensitive, so connected to that other plane, because he was fiercely protective of his privacy and his agency. I don’t know Prince, but I cringe when I see people describe him like he came from outer space, and wish they could see his quiet tenderness and humanity.

The world feels entitled to Prince, and we are so honored he claimed us here in Minneapolis. The whole city is mourning, and my heart aches as I look out on the skyline and wait for it to turn purple. Even with the radio off I can hear him ringing in my ears. I have so much else I want to say, but it wouldn’t be enough.

Good night, sweet Prince. It’s such a shame our friendship had to end.

Listening to the streaming compendium of Prince’s music all day today. Casual fan since the late 70’s, I’m amazed by all the great tunes/instrumentation/beats/vocals that flowed from Prince’s artistry. If nothing else, a genius’s passing gives us an excuse to stop our day-to-day and marvel at the monumental body of work he left behind (to say nothing of the rumored vaults of unreleased music/videos etc., may we all be so fortunate). Thank you, thank you, from Portland OR. We’re all purple today.

Yeah That Happened!

Thank you for sharing your feelings. Made me crave for another live experience with Prince. His genius was undone…

Jessica Voigts

SO very, very beautiful and touching. Thank you.

Crystal

Everything you have written here rings true. Thank you. I’ve always seen Prince as a beautiful and inspiring person as well as a completely captivating artist. He was a whole person, thriving, loving, brilliant, joyful, driven. All of this shines through in his work and still there is more, more than I can imagine anyone being able to say with words. So much love and respect for him and all of those who are missing him.

Felipe Jones

Perfect example of how we make way too much of our artists/entertainers in this culture.

James K. Nelson

Sadly, we make far, far too little of artists in this culture. As indicated by this comment.

Felipe Jones

No we don’t. In fact, it’s just the opposite. We turn them into idols and worship them which is ridiculous. The fact (if it is a fact) that they mean something to so many people indicates that there is something sorely lacking in many people’s lives. Prince was an entertainer. Would you deny that?

James K. Nelson

Based on your last question (“Prince was an entertainer. Would you deny that?”) you don’t seem to have read my comment at all. In fact, there’s no indication that you’ve read anything but the first few words of my comment before you responded.

Felipe Jones

OK drop the last two sentences, the rest stands.

Also there was nothing casual about my use of artist and entertainer as both apply. It’s just that, in your opinion, they need embellishing which makes my point.

Danyelle Ballard Gilchrist

I dont idolize anyone. Every human being bleeds the same. I dont consider it idolatry, I consider it respect, adoration and appreciation for someone not selfishly hoarding a gift they were given…but using it to inspire, enlighten & to spread joy to others. Prince gave selflessly to many without seeking accolades or recognition, which speaks volumes about the type of person he was. He certainly earned his place in history

Jenny Halliday

This is the first time I’ve read something that was not “inclusive” – that tries to say “I know Prince better than you do and my fandom is of a better quality than most peoples.” I like that everyone finds something in Prince that resonates so deeply. We all have danced with Prince.

Martha McNey

A heart-piercing reflection. Unlike Minnetonka’s waters, your soul is transparent. The clarity and genuineness of your speaking and writing is surely what caught and held the attention of the enigmatic Prince.

krodby

Thank you for keeping the tenderness and beauty of his spirit in your recollection. The loss of his creative force echoes within me, too, and we don’t even know yet how much we’ve lost- It’s hard to quantify and qualify, because of the mystery that permeated him, his allowances to media, etc. It’s an exquisite pain, tho, like the art he gave his life to creating. . . Nothing will ever compare to u Prince ♡ grateful for your example of a creative, eccentric life with love and sex and God as driving forces. . Kristina